


Morning

by plaid_knockabout



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Crowley-centric (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Sharing a Bed, so here! have some fluff!!, they are idiots!!!, this has been sitting in my drafts since february because i am a forgetful fool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 16:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19908769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaid_knockabout/pseuds/plaid_knockabout
Summary: Golden light spilled through the dusty windows and pooled on the floor of the little upstairs flat. It stung behind Crowley’s eyelids and made his head feel like it was stuffed with cotton.He groaned into his pillow. Oh G--, Sa--,Somebody, how much had he drank last night? Certainly enough to land him-- wherever he was. Where was he? This was not his bed. It was too soft, too warm. Smelled too much like cinnamon, and dust, and Azir--No. No way. Nope. Nuh-uh. There was no way he’d gotten so sloshed he’d ended up in Aziraphale’sbed.





	Morning

Golden light spilled through the dusty windows and pooled on the floor of the little upstairs flat. It stung behind Crowley’s eyelids and made his head feel like it was stuffed with cotton.  
  
He groaned into his pillow. Oh G--, Sa--, _Somebody_ , how much had he drank last night? Certainly enough to land him-- wherever he was. Where was he? This was not his bed. It was too soft, too warm. Smelled too much like cinnamon, and dust, and Azir-- _No_. No way. Nope. Nuh-uh. There was no way he’d gotten so sloshed he’d ended up in Aziraphale’s _bed_. The arm slung around his waist could not belong to the angel. The legs tangled with his better not have anything angelic about them or Crowley was going to strangle himself for being so bloody stupid. Fuckfuckfuckfuck _fuck_. How could he have let this happen? How could he have been so utterly dense? He thought he’d had some semblance of self control. He’d made it this far without doing anything so fucking dumb. He’d always set the bar so low: don’t get so sozzled that you lose it and either a) confess anything to the angel or b) bloody shag him! Centuries of repressed longing and stamped out desire all down the drain in one bleeding night. Oh Heav-- Hel-- Dammit! _Somewhere_ help him.  
  
Okay. It couldn’t be _that_ bad. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions! Maybe nothing happened. He had no shirt but could feel the soft brush of cotton down his legs and the rub of flannel from the arm encircling him. Okay, okay at least they were _half_ clothed? That’s not necessarily very reassuring, but better than nothing. Perhaps choosing to focus on what he could feel was a poor decision as he was now acutely aware of just how close Aziraphale was pressed to him. The snuggly bastard. Each minute he lay beneath the warm weight of the angel, he drifted further from hope.  
  
Despite the growing dread, the thought of what could have happened the night before made his stomach jump funnily. Heat began to pool in his gut as he ran through all the possible ways they could have gotten into this situation. Part of Crowley was kicking himself that he had been too sauced to remember anything-- If anything _had_ happened that is. He wondered what Aziraphale had-- Nope. He couldn’t keep thinking like that, not with the angel so fucking close. Okay, well. What now? He had to do something. As much as he wanted the earth to swallow him whole, it wouldn’t. Might as well get this all over with so he could go home, curl up, and forget any hopes of Aziraphale ever talking to him again.  
  
He braced himself and gingerly popped open an eye. All the breath left his body.  
  
Less than an inch away from his nose was the angel’s face. Sunshine enveloped him, springing off of every curl, giving his cheeks a warm glow. A small snore escaped from parted pink lips and long lashes fluttered gently with no intention of opening. Crowley’s heart melted and for a split second all of his worry washed away as he beheld the angel. He looked so peaceful, so soft. Crowley couldn’t remember Aziraphale ever looking quite so, for lack of a better term, angelic. If he wasn’t already so in love with him, he could have fallen hard again right then. He traced the sunlit lines of his face with loving eyes, trying to imprint the scene to memory; Somebody only knows if he’d ever see it again.  
  
His contemplation was cut short as the angel mumbled something incoherent and snuggled closer to Crowley, neatly tucking his head against the demon’s neck. Golden curls tickled his nose, and he carefully raised a hand to brush them away. Much to his own dismay, he couldn’t help continuing to gently stroke the soft locks. The angel gave an appreciative sigh and nuzzled closer against him. Crowley could feel his cheeks burning and suspected they were turning a traitorous shade of red. Look, he still had a shot. Maybe Aziraphale wouldn’t remember anything either. Maybe he could pass this off as… a friendly embrace between pals?  
  
“Mmmmph, _Crowley_.” Crowley froze. _Fuck_. The blood from his face began to rush south. He was done for.  
  
After several uncomfortable minutes, lashes fluttered against his neck. A shiver ran through him at the sensation. _Oh shit_. Aziraphale sighed again and raised his head. A dazed smile played on his lips. He opened his eyes and Crowley’s heart leapt into his throat. Blue caught the golden light and for an instant, regarded Crowley with a look filled with so much love it made him want to cry. Aziraphale’s tender gaze came to an abrupt stop when it appeared that the angel had suddenly snapped back to reality and realized the implications of the position they were in. Pure love faltered and turned to sheer horror.  
  
“Oh-- Oh my!” Aziraphale grasped at the quilt and pulled it up to his chin, even though he did have a shirt on (though, it was unbuttoned, _this_ Crowley had most certainly not failed to notice). “I-- I--” the angel sputtered, unable to form words. A deep blush crept from his face all the way down to his chest. Crowley shifted away from him, figured he should give him some space.  
  
“Look,” tried Crowley, “look just--” Aziraphale raised a hand.  
  
“I can explain.” Crowley gave a harsh laugh and shook his head.  
  
“I think I can too, angel.” The bitterness of his tone was lost on Aziraphale.  
  
“Oh!” He gave a slight chuckle. “That’s a relief! I was worried for a moment there. I thought this would be terribly awkward.” How was the angel so collected all of a sudden? And why is he so bloody cheery? “Though perhaps you should tell me your explanation just to make sure that we’re on the same page.” Crowley tensed. Aziraphale looked at him expectantly. What kind of twisted deed had he done to deserve this? Nevermind, he knew the answer to that.  
  
“Well, uh, well. You know. We may have had a little too much to drink and I, er well, I may have suggested something untoward, and well. You may have agreed, and uh, and we um you know, made our way to the bed...”  
  
“That sounds about right.” Crowley’s stomach dropped. Of course it does. “However, my dear, your suggestion was far from untoward. Actually it was quite endearing.” _What--?_ What had he said to him that could have been endearing? ‘Would you like a quick shag, my darling?’ ‘How about a nice fuck, my dearest?’ Oh _Someone_ he better not have put it like that.  
  
“Endearing?-- Angel, how on earth was it endearing?” Aziraphale tilted his head to the side in confusion. Then he laughed.  
  
“Oh you old serpent, of course, you’re far too proud to admit to being adorable in any capacity. Which only adds to your charm.” Crowley stared at him unblinking.  
  
“My what?” Aziraphale patted his arm indulgently.  
  
“Oh nevermind, dear.” The angel gave a languid yawn and settled back into the nest of blankets he’d amassed. He let the quilt he was holding up against himself slip, revealing a broad chest dusted in little golden curls. The flannel pj shirt he had on was barely holding onto his shoulders. Crowley gulped. He couldn’t help staring. Oh he wished he remembered what it had felt like to touch that chest, maybe even kiss it. To kiss that neck, those lips, that-- Ok Crowley, come on. Think of literally anything else. Why not try to make sense of what he’d said. Endearing, endearing he’d said endearing. Think. What did that mean in his books? Asking for a shag’s not endearing so what could he have done that was endearing? Maybe they’d just snogged? That was almost worse, he couldn’t blame kissing on drunken lust, that just screams obvious affection. Crowley imagined himself drunk and trying to ask for a kiss, all he got was creepy, not endearing. Also a kiss wouldn’t explain why they were half dressed. No, it wasn’t kissing. Fuck. Aziraphale must have noticed him staring; the angel flushed and preened a litte. _Fuck_.  
  
“It was rather nice actually, very cozy.” Aziraphale gave a shy smile, “I don’t think I’ve ever done that, well not that I can remember anyway, never really occurred to me. But it was really quite nice.” Oh _great_. Crowley could kick himself. So it was his first time and Crowley was drunk and couldn’t remember a thing! Great! That’s just great.  
  
Crowley must have been spiralling into despair and self loathing just a titch too long, for a small cough came from beside him. He glanced over and was met with a sheepish blue gaze. “Was-- Was it alright? For you, I mean? Was it what you asked for?” The question hit him like a punch in the gut. There was no room for doubt now. No way to deny. He knew what that question meant. He’d done it. He’d _asked_ for it. And he couldn’t even bother to remember it. What could he possibly say now? How could he have been so bloody fucking stupid.  
  
A pit opened up behind his heart and everything seemed to drain into it. Everything except for the sadness; it clung to his chest walls and hurt like Hell. This was it. He’d finally made a mess too big to just slither out of. He’d taken the most important thing in his life and ruined it. The truth was, he loved the angel, very dearly. And if this situation was going to have happened, Crowley wanted to have been able to confess his love to the angel beforehand. He’d have waited. He’d have made it good for him, made it romantic. And now he couldn’t. He’d squandered it all on a drunken one night stand. And it would just stay a one night stand because Aziraphale, as nice as he thought the night was, didn’t love Crowley back. He probably thought of it as an interesting taste of human sin, a tourist attraction. Crowley worried things would get weird after this. That the two of them would be awkward, then they’d drift, then Crowley would say something rash, and it would all be over. And it would all be his fault.  
  
Crowley knew himself, he knew what he would do. Before all that happened, he’d go away, slink off like the coward that he is. Before things got ugly. Before he could fuck things up even more. _Goddammit!_ Their friendship was the most important thing in the universe to Crowley. And he’d just taken it, the one truly good thing in his life, and he bloody ruined it. He could live without love, he had done so for centuries, but Crowley wasn’t sure if he could carry on without his friend.  
  
_‘Was it what you asked for?’_ He sure as Hell hoped it was. It better had been worth it for all the grief it was gonna cost him. It better have been bloody brilliant.  
  
He felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“I say, what’s the matter dear boy?” Crowley was pulled back into the moment. He blinked once, twice, and the worried face of his angel came into focus. “Crowley, is everything alright?” Aziraphale rubbed his shoulder soothingly with his thumb.  
  
“Huh? Yeah, yeah. Sorry, just er drifted off for a moment.” Crowley ran a hand through his hair worriedly. Aziraphale gave a half-hearted smile.  
  
“Oh well, that’s alright, dear. You must be tired.” The hand fell from his shoulder.  
  
“Yeah tired. That’s-- That’s it…” Ok this was too much. Now Aziraphale was upset, he could tell. The last thing he wanted was for Aziraphale to feel like he was being snubbed. He wanted him to feel appreciated, loved. He couldn’t pretend anymore. He had to come clean. “Look, angel, I just, I don’t-- I really don’t know what to say, ‘cause I don’t-- argh.” His dropped his head into his hands. “I gotta say that, that I actually can’t er remember anything that happened last night. And I should have had more self-control. I can’t believe I was so bloody dim. And I’m really sorry if I was improper or uh indelicate. The last thing I’d ever want would be to make you uncomfortable or pressure you into anything, and if I did I know my apology can’t fix that so I understand if you want to leave--”  
  
“Crowley, Crowley, love, slow down!” The hand was back on his shoulder and it was turning him toward the angel. “What on earth are you talking about?” He gave a concerned chuckle and gently peeled the hands away from the demon’s face. “There.” He smiled encouragingly. “What are you on about, my dear?”  
  
“L--Last night.”  
  
“Yes, well, I know you’re talking about last night. But what’s all this about impropriety?”  
  
“Well, I don’t remember how I acted and, and I couldn’t bare it if, if I was cruel or if I upset you or hurt you. I just-- I don’t--”  
  
“Here, here now.” Aziraphale held Crowley’s trembling hands. “You couldn’t be cruel if you tried, dear. And I’m far from uncomfortable.” Crowley peered up skeptically. “You didn’t hurt me, darling. And I know you never would do so intentionally. It’s ok, Crowley.” Crowley allowed himself to relax a little, even though he was still sick with worry. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat. Aziraphale chuckled again quietly.  
  
“You really can’t remember what happened?” Crowley shook his head “But you explained--” Aziraphale stopped himself short. A deep red spread across his cheeks. “Wait, what do you think happened?” It was now Crowley’s turn to blush.  
  
“Uh, well like I said before, we got drunk, er too drunk, and I asked you to well, you know, I asked you if you’d want to er go to bed with me and uh you agreed and then well we, you know… we er shagged.” The angel’s eyes were as round as dinner plates, he held up his hands.  
  
“That-- That’s what I was worried you thought, at first, and then you said that you could _explain_ so I thought you knew, but I guess you didn’t, that explains why you were-- I’m sorry for all the confusion, dear.” Crowley’s brow furrowed. He didn’t understand anything the angel just said, but a tiny spark of hope lit up inside him.  
  
“Hold on, hold on, what _actually_ happened?”  
  
“Well, you said you needed to go to sleep but wanted me to stay with you. Then you asked if I would cuddle with you and I obliged.” Relief flooded through him and washed all the panic and grief from his chest.  
  
“Oh, thank God, I mean Satan, I mean-- Oh blast.”  
  
Aziraphale gave a hollow laugh, “Yes, ha, thank goodness that nothing happened…” He glanced off to the side. Crowley missed this, preoccupied as he was with his rejoicing. They had just cuddled! A bit emasculating, but Crowley could care less at this point. He didn’t ruin their relationship! He didn’t fuck up! They could still be friends. But hold on,  
  
“Wait, but why are we half clothed?” Aziraphale didn’t move his eyes from where they lay on the quilt.  
  
“Oh? Oh yes, you complained that your suit was uncomfortable so I miracled us some pajamas. In my state I may have uh forgotten to give you a shirt, sorry about that.” Crowley now noticed that the angel seemed a bit put out, disappointed almost. Nothing happened, shouldn’t he be relieved? In an instant all of Crowley’s worries came rushing back to him. His relief meant nothing if Aziraphale was upset. What was wrong?  
  
“Er, angel--” Crowley tried to catch his eye. He wouldn’t look at him.  
  
“Would it be so terrible if something had happened?” His voice was so small, Crowley barely heard him.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Would it be awful if something had actually happened, between us, I mean.” Crowley didn’t understand what he was getting at.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Oh.” Aziraphale’s shoulders drooped. “Right, of course.” Why did he seem so crestfallen? Shouldn’t he be glad? Why on earth w--  
  
Wait, hold on. Did-- Did Aziraphale _want_ something to have happened? Why would he-- Aziraphale began to shift to the edge of the bed “Well, I guess I should--” Crowley, you big oaf, do _something!_  
  
“Angel, wait.” Crowley caught his arm. Aziraphale turned to face him and Crowley could see the hurt in his eyes. He had to take that hurt away. “Aziraphale, it would be terrible if something had happened because I wouldn’t have remembered it. I-- I’d want to remember it.”  
  
“Oh.” Aziraphale sounded taken aback. But Crowley couldn’t just stop there.  
  
“And,” Crowley leaned forward, “I’d want to be sober and to make it er good for you, because I well, I--” Crowley could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Here goes nothing. “I really care about you, angel. I, dammit, I love you. I always have.” Fuck, well, now he’d really done it. There was the other bloody shoe. And he thought he’d ruined their relationship before, oh boy, that was nothing. No turning back from here. What the fuck was he doing? Just because he didn't actually fuck up last night apparently meant that today he had to double his daily fuck up quota. This was it. It was over.  
  
He tensed as he felt a soft hand under his chin. It tipped his face upward so he was looking in his angel’s eyes again. He found none of the pain, or anger, or disgust he’d assumed would be present after such a confession. Instead, the blue was brimming with joy. It was that shining, bursting look that the angel had given Crowley earlier in his sleepy haze. That look that made Crowley feel so special. That look he received so often but could never place what it was. That look that Crowley could no longer mistake for anything other than unbridled love. All his anguish vanished for good, and in its wake it left a small, warm, fuzzy feeling that began to unfurl tentatively.  
  
“ _Oh, Crowley,_ ” Soft hands cupped his cheeks and pulled him in. They met grin to grin, gentle and sweet. Love bloomed in Crowley’s chest. He couldn’t believe he was worried about them. He felt so warm, so loved. When they broke apart, neither could stop smiling. Aziraphale ran his hands down from his face to rest around his shoulders. “I love you too, my dear. Always have.” Crowley felt like he might cry. This was everything he has ever wanted for thousands of years and now that he had it, he felt as though he was going to burst due to the sheer amount of happiness and love inside him. He couldn’t believe how much he loved this bloody angel, and just how good it felt to know he was loved in return. He brought their lips together again. He was the luckiest demon alive.  
  
“What a right pair of fools we are.” chuckled Aziraphale between kisses.  
  
“Fools for sure.” Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and pulled him down on top of him. A fit of giggles erupted from the angel. Aziraphale pecked quick little kisses all along Crowley’s throat and down across his chest, it tickled. Crowley’s cheeks hurt from smiling. How lovely it was to know that he was allowed to kiss him, to be kissed; to hold him, to be held; to love him, to be loved. God, he had it bad didn’t he? He could care less right now how sappy he was being, as there were more pressing issues at hand, like the angel in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!! hope it made you smile!!!!


End file.
